


Chiaroscuro

by b2 (bombshellbrunette)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Dimitri has PTSD, F/M, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2020-10-25 18:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20728514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bombshellbrunette/pseuds/b2
Summary: The ghosts of the past won't leave Dimitri alone. Least of all the living ones.





	1. The Calm Before

**Author's Note:**

> hello minna!! yes im back with another fe3h fic honestly what did yall expect???? sigh dimileth still owns my ass, i have 900 wips but im posting this anyways bc i want to:,) i hope everyone enjoys the first chapter!!

When Dimitri first made eye contact with Byleth on that dark, dusty path, he knew immediately that he would fall in love with her.

Not in the way that Sylvain sang about every morning at breakfast across the table, or the charming kisses Claude laid upon the entire local population’s hands, or even like the shy, appreciative glances Mercedes angled toward their classmates when no one else was looking. This was a different beast, and it flowed through his body like new blood, lapping at old wounds and soothing them anew. 

Dimitri wasn’t in love with her immediately, of course. Love at first sight was a myth, though an oft-described one in the fanciful books he’d taken to reading in his embarrassing younger years before everything went wrong. What shot through his veins and burst at his fingertips was the potential for loving, the knowledge that though he didn’t love her now—for how could he, they’d only just met—he would, sooner or later, find himself hopelessly entangled in her being.

And then when she strode into the classroom on that first day, hair tucked behind her ears and back straight despite the nervousness in her eyes, he thought, _ oh. _His first instinct had been right after all; he was already slipping under, entranced by the flat set of her mouth and brows.

It was wrong to feel this way when Glenn couldn’t; gluttonous to drink in the sight of Byleth when his father and stepmother stared with unseeing eyes in their cold tombs; cruel to imagine a future when so many of his loved ones would never have one. But he couldn’t help it—she invited dreams for Dimitri like sleep invited nightmares, and resisting them was as futile as attempting to avoid visions of Duscur. 

At night, Byleth was inevitable.

_ One day you’re going to be the death of me, _he thought, and looked away when she met his eyes.

Unfortunately, Dimitri was not as subtle as he wanted to be. He spent countless lazy summer afternoons gazing at his professor from across the table, and though he listened intently to her lessons on battle tactics he craved more with every passing day. It wasn’t that her teaching was inadequate—on the contrary, she was well-trained and well-spoken, perhaps one of the most qualified to provide experience based lessons out of all the monastery’s teachers. It was just that Dimitri wanted to talk to her about other things, too, to stroll across Garreg Mach’s grounds and ask about her opinions on grand philosophical questions and the various breakfast options available at the Dining Hall and everything in between.

As the season melted into fall, Dimitri’s affection didn’t wane. In fact, it grew stronger and ever more distracting, and he often caught himself easing into a tone far too romantic to be casual. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and let it hang loose in front of everyone when he leaned in too close during afternoon tea and complimented his professor’s smile on the rare occasions that she let it show in the haze of an exciting battle.

One placid morning during Horsebow Moon, as Byleth spoke about the detriments and benefits of using long range lances, her toned arms stretched out to the blackboard, shirt riding up to reveal a tantalizing sliver of skin. Dimitri _ knew _he shouldn’t be looking but he did anyway, cheeks red even as he tried to maintain a neutral expression.

“Dude,” muttered Sylvain, nudging Dimitri’s foot with his own under the table. “You’re staring pretty hard. Not that I’d interfere in your hot for teacher quest, but it’s getting creepy.”

Startled, Dimitri tore his eyes from Byleth’s form to glance at Sylvain. “I was merely paying attention to the lesson,” he whispered back. Looking briefly at his professor he tried to surmise what she’d been discussing based on her movements, and said with a confidence he didn’t have, "The distinction between javelins and short-range lances is extremely important.”

Sylvain let out an impressed whistle, and said under his breath, “I didn’t know you were such a good multitasker, Your Highness.”

From beside him, Felix snorted. “You’re both idiots,” he said, voice low and—despite everything—reluctantly amused. “She’s talking about archery tactics. Just shut up and focus or you’ll get us all killed.”

Sufficiently chastened, Dimitri rested his chin on his palms and tried to tune back into what Byleth was saying. She was walking, now, pacing across the room in sweeping strides. Her long coat swept behind her like a shadow and though her face was neutral as always, there was a dash of excitement in her gestures. It was cute. Vigor looked good on her, both on the battlefield and outside of it. A full smile on her face would be practically blinding.

“Whipped,” commented Sylvain, disguised by a fake cough, and Dimitri’s ears burned with the truth of it.

After class ended several excruciating minutes later, Dimitri hurried out of the room. His face was still flushed, and his heart was beating so loud he thought Byleth might be able to hear it from continents away. It was humiliating how little he could control his reactions to her, how readily praise and fumbled compliments slipped from his lips in her presence. The difference in age between them was barely anything—she was only a few years older than them, after all, and Dimitri was practically an adult—but he felt like a timid child in front of her, and his own besottedness humiliated him endlessly.

“Dimitri,” called an all-too-familiar voice from behind him, accompanied by the scratch of shoes against the monastery’s cobblestones.

Looking over his shoulder, Dimitri couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his face when he saw his professor rushing towards him. She seemed completely unruffled by the slight chill in the air, but her hair had come loose from behind her ears, strands curling by the soft curve of her jaw.

“Professor,” he greeted, turning to face Byleth. “To what do I owe you the pleasure?”

From a satchel around her shoulders, Byleth withdrew a pair of black leather gloves. They looked well-worn, and for good reason; they were the exact same pair Dimitri had lost a month back at the stables during a cleaning task with Annette. “These are yours, right?” she asked, taking a step forward to press them into Dimitri’s empty hands. “I found them near the stables.”

Dimitri nodded, entranced by the weight of her slender fingers against his palm. “Yes,” he said at last, voice hoarse despite himself. “Thank you. I’ve been looking everywhere. How did you locate them, if I may ask?”

“I came across them outside,” she replied simply, looking up at him. Her small hands were still resting against his and another strand of hair had come loose, but she hadn’t yet noticed. 

Without considering the implications, Dimitri tucked the hair behind her ear, thumb skimming over the arch of her cheekbone. Immediately, he faltered—was it inappropriate to try and touch her like that? Would she take his gesture amiss? 

She startled as he jerked his hand back, eyes wide and surprised like a disgruntled cat, and a flush spread down Dimitri’s face and neck. “I—it came loose, so I thought,” he stammered, uncertain and embarrassed, and let his arms fall to his sides. “I’m so sorry, professor, it wasn’t at all my intention to make you uncomfortable.

Byleth was unmoved by his humiliation and shook her head, expression shifting back to neutral with a slow blink. “I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she said. “Sometimes those things escape my notice. I appreciate your attention to detail, Dimitri. It’s a useful skill to have.”

If only his professor knew how much attention to her details Dimitri really paid, perhaps she wouldn’t be praising him with such earnestness. But Dimitri, ever the glutton for her compliments, flustered under her gaze anyway and let out a strained laugh. “Of course,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t linger in her presence any longer or he’d do something even more regrettable, so with a heavy heart he turned in the direction of the Training Hall and said, “Ah, forgive me—I was actually planning to do some training this evening. Would it be possible to resume this conversation later?”

  
Byleth cocked her head to the side, and though her expression was blank as usual, there was something simmering beneath the surface of her big, blue eyes. “That’s a good idea,” she said, closing her satchel and stepping closer to Dimitri. “I haven’t had much time for individual training myself, recently. Mind if I accompany you?”

Dimitri’s cheeks flared red, and though he knew the whole point of training was to avoid her he nodded anyway—_ pathetic, boar prince, _he could almost hear Felix saying—and they set off together, side by side, as if it had been their plan all along.

Byleth fought well, which didn’t come as a surprise to Dimitri in the slightest.

Her movements were quick and well-practiced and despite her lithe frame she was strong, punches and kicks pushing Dimitri back whenever he tried to get closer. As a seasoned warrior, she was a daunting opponent even in training. Still, she had her weaknesses like the rest of them. His professor was much smaller than Dimitri was, and without the aid of a sword her jabs did little more than delay his advance. Everyone else had long since abandoned their training, and Dimitri couldn’t blame them; it was almost dinner, and neither he nor Byleth had won the match yet, both too stubborn to concede without a good fight. 

Sweat rolled down his professor’s forehead and in rivulets down the long, pale column of her neck, and her face was pleasantly flushed, red high in her cheeks and breathing heavy. Dimitri was sure he looked no better—figuratively, of course, because Byleth looked stunning per usual—but he hardly cared. He hadn’t faced such a capable opponent outside the ravages of the battlefield for months.

“You’ve improved,” she remarked, hands braced out in front of her chest in a protective stance. “Your hand-to-hand combat has definitely gotten better over the past few months.”

Dimitri threw his head back in a breathy, exhilarated laugh. “Even now you act like a teacher,” he said, taking a step forward. “Not that it’s a bad thing. I appreciate your diligence, professor.”

Byleth tensed in anticipation, feet digging into the dusty floor. “You’d be a dangerous enemy on the battlefield,” she admitted. “I would be a terrible mercenary if I weren’t wary of your abilities.”

“Good thing we’re not enemies, then,” quipped Dimitri, going low to sweep her off her feet. He knew she was capable—much more experienced than Dimitri himself was, and better at wielding the weapons at her disposal—but he couldn’t bear to slam into her with all his weight. It was too brutal, too undeserved to justify a minor victory in a training session.

As expected, Byleth dodged with grace and slammed the flat side of her foot into Dimitri’s knee, sending him sprawling backwards on the sand. Before he could even think to react she was upon him, knees straddling his hips and small hands pinning his wrists to the ground.

“You’re going easy on me,” she breathed out, brows slightly cocked in displeasure. “There’s no point to training if you don’t approach your opponent on equal terms, Dimitri. I can handle it.”  
  
Though Dimitri knew she was right and that there was a genuine discussion to be had, the only thing he could think about was the subtle weight of her body over his, the friction that burned where her thighs brushed against his chest. She was out of breath, and her ample cleavage heaved against her shirt with every inhale. It was the closest they’d ever been, and it sent Dimitri’s pulse rocketing into dangerous territory. If she leaned down just a bit further, their mouths would touch.

“Sorry,” he murmured, forcing himself to keep his gaze rooted on her face, hoping his greedy eyes wouldn’t take it upon themselves to wander where they were not invited. “You’re right, professor. I won’t hold back anymore.”

It was ironic—as the lie escaped his lips, he could hardly force down the laugh bubbling in his chest. If only his professor understood how much he was hiding from her. The true depths of his feelings would probably confuse and upset her; holding them back was the best thing he could do for both of them.

Byleth’s mouth twisted into a half frown and she stared down into his face like she was searching for an answer he couldn’t provide. Despite her placid expression, her inner feelings were for once obvious. Dimitri could feel the frustration oozing from her every pore. 

“Good,” she said after a few seconds of confused eye contact, rising to her feet and extending a hand in his direction. “Then let’s go to dinner. I think we’re done for tonight.”

“Agreed,” said Dimitri unsteadily, and let her pull him up to stand again.

And then, like a cold wind blowing in from some far land, the atmosphere changed. Flayn and Manuela had disappeared suddenly, and Jeritza had fled the grounds, leaving a trail of elusive clues in his wake. Their absence was felt by every student—the fishing pond was almost deserted, save for Alois, and Manuela’s usual place at the bar was left empty—but most keenly by Seteth, whose normal vague disapproval had been replaced with a lost expression that he wore wherever he drifted.

When Byleth had investigated the situation, the findings she reported were disturbing. Rumors of Jeritza and baseless accusations leveled at various students and professors were spreading like wildfire, and they created an unease that shook even the sturdiest of knights. It settled on Garreg Mach like an eerie fog, slipping through the cracks in the monastery’s high walls and polluting its insides with paranoia and fear.

There had to be an answer somewhere within the monastery. Dimitri was certain that the clues were all there—the reports about Jeritza and the whispers of a man called the Death Knight churned in his stomach—but he just couldn’t piece them together. He’d been library for hours pouring over the facts of the case as he knew them and piecing together half baked theories, but it seemed impossible to figure out how, why, or where Flayn had been taken. If he had more time, then maybe—

“Dimitri,” came a surprised voice from behind him. “What are you doing awake? It’s far gone midnight.”  
  
Rubbing at his eyes, Dimitri looked over his shoulder. Byleth was standing at the top of the staircase, pale face illuminated by candlelight, wearing a loose blouse and pants beneath her usual cloak. The clothes were much too big for her and she swam in them, sleeves hanging past her fingertips and pants dragging beneath her feet. Seeing her so disheveled was beyond cute—it was _ adorable. _

Almost adorable enough to distract him from the task at hand, but not quite. There was a job to be done.

“Ah, professor,” he began, melding his voice into something that was at least passably composed. “Apologies. I was simply doing some research, and the hour escaped my notice.”

Byleth shifted on her feet, sleepy eyes scrutinizing his hunched over form. “What topic?” she asked, padding forward to look over his shoulder. “‘The range and usage of warp spells’? I didn’t know you were so interested in magic. Perhaps I should hold a seminar this week.”

“Though I appreciate the offer, this is sadly not a project motivated by desire,” said Dimitri, taking note of his page number and closing the book. “I was just contemplating whether Jeritza would have been able to transport Flayn and Manuela without notice that way. Evidently,” he sighed, gesturing to the large chunk of the book that remained, “I won’t be able to answer that question tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” said Byleth, mouth scrunched in contemplation. “Jeritza wasn’t known for being a great magician, and those kinds of spells—particularly long-range—require significant energy and skill. Besides, magic like that would be easily countered by Manuela. It’s far more likely that they were physically forced.”

  
Dimitri buried his face in his hands. “Of course,” he groaned. Looking back up at Byleth, he said, “You’re amazing, professor. That would’ve taken me hours to determine.”

Shrugging, Byleth pulled up a chair and took a seat beside him. “It’s just a matter of experience,” she said, rifling through the discarded volume. “In time, you’ll be able to do the same thing. You essentially already can. The progress you and your classmates have made over the past few months is obvious.”

  
Dimitri shook his head, and said earnestly, “That’s a kind thing to say, professor, but even you know that we have much to learn. It’s only with your guidance that we managed to survive the last mission.”

There was a pause as the weight of Dimitri’s words sank in, and Byleth stared down at the ornate book cover, brows furrowed in thought. “Nonsense,” she said after a few seconds of strained silence, lashes casting shadows onto her cheek. “You did all the work.”

Though he was on the verge of objecting, when he took in his professor’s determined gaze, Dimitri only chuckled. “It seems we will never reach an agreement on this subject, so it is pointless arguing further,” he said, pushing out the chair to stand up. “As you yourself said, it is getting quite late. Shall I walk you back to the dormitory?”

“You are very kind,” said Byleth, eyes still fixed on the desk, “but no. I think I’ll do a little more research tonight.”

The air had shifted between them, somehow. There had been a truth there—a subtle truth that shifted through the air like smoke, a hard to parse truth—but Dimitri’s words had sent them skulking back to the shadows, dissipated by his clumsy verbal missteps. 

It didn’t surprise him in the slightest. Dimitri always broke delicate things.

“Very well then,” said Dimitri, head hung low, and he left the room without looking back.

And then they found Flayn and Manuela, and though everything was slowly getting more convoluted she _ smiled, _so beautiful and bright and buoyant and a million other useless, insufficient words in Dimitri’s lovesick mental dictionary, and the missions were going well, and they were winning and winning and winning, and then Jeralt—

And Jeralt.

Dimitri knocked on the door, tray balanced precariously on one hand. “Professor?” he said, guilt churning in his stomach. “I’m sorry to intrude, but… I thought you might like breakfast. I can leave it on the doorstep if you’d prefer not to come out.”

There was silence on the other end for a moment, before the door opened with a creak. Byleth looked rough—her eyes were red with tears, hair disheveled and unbrushed—but her features were schooled into a tactfully neutral expression, swollen mouth pressed into a firm line.

“Thanks,” she said, voice rough from disuse. “I—I hadn’t even realized it was morning. I appreciate your thinking of me, Dimitri. It’s very kind of you.”

“It was nothing,” Dimitri replied, voice rushed even to his own ears as he forced a smile onto his face. 

He was sure she could tell it was forced, but she didn’t seem to mind, merely stepping back and leaving room for him to come in. It wasn’t the first time Dimitri had been to her room—they’d taken tea together many times in the past, after all—but it felt wrong to invade her space when she was so upset, like he was stepping into the recesses of her mind.

Byleth watched on in silence, arms crossed over her chest. “I’m sorry about everything,” she said suddenly, eyes fixed resolutely on a loose floorboard. “Behaving like this… it’s inappropriate for someone in my position.”

Dimitri shook his head, plate still sitting haphazardly on his palm. “You have nothing to apologize for,” he said. “It’s perfectly understandable for you to be upset, professor. In fact, it would be unreasonable for anyone to expect that you wouldn’t be.”

Byleth only stared harder at the ground, lashes casting sharp shadows on her cheek. “But I shouldn’t be,” she whispered. “I’ve never—he didn’t raise me like this, and I don’t understand... My heart—it’s never hurt before, but now it aches.” When she looked back up, Dimitri sucked in a breath—her usually impenetrable eyes were brimming with tears. “How do I make it stop, Dimitri? It’s _ unbearabl_e.”

Before he could stop himself, Dimitri took her into his arms, sending the tray clattering to the floor. “Just let it out,” he murmured, clutching her tightly to his chest. “It’s okay, professor. Just let it out…”

Hands fisted in his shirt, Byleth began to cry in earnest, burying her head in the crook of his neck. Her tears were wet and hot against his skin, but Dimitri didn’t care—the weight of her in his arms made him feel at ease, comforted. Her body shook like a leaf in his arms, but Dimitri said nothing, letting her seek silent refuge for as long as he needed.

“Dimitri,” she breathed out like a revelation, pulling back after a few moments. Her lashes were wet, tears dripping from the bottom of her eyes, but she was perhaps more gorgeous than he’d ever seen her. “Dimitri…”

“Professor,” he echoed, dry throat swallowing nothing when she wound her arms around his neck. “I—”

Cutting him off, Byleth leaned up and kissed him. Her lips were soft, working firmly against his, and with a sigh Dimitri’s mouth opened to meet hers. The kiss was warm, so wonderfully warm, and her body was pliant and soft against his own, and Dimitri never wanted it to end because if kissing with Byleth was like this then Dimitri couldn’t stand to imagine a world without it.

When she pulled back her pupils were blown wide, but tears still clung to her lashes like dewdrops. Her face was flushed a deep red, and she touched a trembling hand to her lips in disbelief. “Did I—?” she started, voice more unsteady than he’d ever heard it. “I’m so—”

“Do not worry,” said Dimitri quickly. It would be excruciating to hear her rejection now—she must’ve felt his feelings through the kiss, must’ve sensed the absurd depth of his feelings for her, and now felt the need to assure him that she wasn’t interested. The guilt would surely be unhealthy for her; it would be unfair to impose his feelings on her now, when she needed comfort so badly. “It was in the heat of the moment, and nothing more. We will forget it ever happened.” Looking down at the mess he’d made on the ground, Dimitri huffed out a chuckle. “Let me prepare another tray, since obviously I've made a mess of this one. I will be back shortly.”

Before the professor could utter another word he was out the door, face burning in humiliation and lovesickness and joy and fear, and then her footsteps came pattering after his—

And then everything changed, because they stumbled into something they weren’t meant to see. And that knife—that knife surely couldn’t be what he thought it was, could it?

.

.

.

(…Could it?)


	2. The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stumbles in 6 months later* whoops
> 
> i wrote this piece for the [My Beloved](https://twitter.com/mybelovedzine/status/1240279351863771136?s=21) zine! i thought it would work perfectly as a sequel to this piece :3 leftover sales will eventually be up so keep an eye out for that!!

Byleth chewed on her lip, teeth digging into bitten, chapped skin. It was more bitterly cold now than ever before, and all of her former students had congregated in the dining hall both for dinner and to escape the sting of impending frost, bundled in layers of cloaks and hats to protect them.  


All except one.

Dimitri was nowhere to be found; there was an empty seat at the end of the table that betrayed his absence next to where Sylvain had set himself down. Byleth had made a plate for him, complete with silverware and a glass of the whiskey she knew he preferred, but it was no use. He hadn’t come to dinner since her return, and clearly tonight was not going to be different.

Disappointment simmered in her stomach despite herself. Byleth had known that Dimitri’s recovery would be long and arduous, especially after the loss of Rodrigue, but he’d been so open—so _ repentant, _even—when he’d spoken to all of them that she had hoped something within him would be altered.

Shaking herself of those thoughts, Byleth looked to the rest of what remained of the Blue Lions. Annette was leaning across the table and gesturing broadly in response to something Felix had just said, eyes gleaming with barely contained passion, and Byleth almost cracked a smile at the sight of it. Beside her, Mercedes was chuckling under her hand, and Ingrid on the other side was rolling her eyes with obvious disapproval.

It was nice to see them all together again. When Byleth had returned from her sleep, she’d naively expected everything to be just as she left it—a fantasy that lasted all of about five minutes, until she crossed paths with Dimitri in the ruins of what once was Garreg Mach. Still, she’d always held out some hope that, in time, they’d be able to work together as a group again, and perhaps even stand together as friends.

“Professor,” said Dedue tentatively, interrupting her thoughts. When Byleth looked up, surprised at the sudden intrusion, he bowed his head, eyes filled with guilt. “Forgive my sudden speech. I did not intend to disturb you.”

Byleth frowned. Though she was no stranger to Dedue’s intensely polite manner, she’d hoped that living on his own without Dimitri’s influence would instill a greater degree of confidence within him. “It’s fine,” she said at last, waving a casual hand in front of her. “I wasn’t thinking anything of great importance. What is it that you need?”

“I was merely wondering whether you knew if His Highness intended to join us,” he said. “When I spoke to him earlier, he expressed his desire to dine with everyone tonight. While I understand that his absence is not atypical, I expected to see him this evening.”

“I don’t,” Byleth admitted, eyes drifting unwittingly to the empty seat. “He indicated that he would come, but…” she trailed off, unable to properly explain her confused feelings on the matter. “Perhaps he just needs more time.”

Dedue pursed his lips, and said after a beat, “I find that, since our imprisonment five years ago, my understanding of His Highness has dwindled. I do still know this, however—he is not one to renege on his promises. Perhaps he is merely waiting for a sign that he is welcome.”

Byleth didn’t have the heart to deny him. She knew now what she had to do—probably what she’d been wanting to do from the minute she noticed Dimitri wasn’t there.

“I will return shortly,” she addressed the table, rising to her feet. Turning to Dedue, she managed a genuine smile for the first time that evening. “And… thank you, Dedue. Sincerely.”

Wrapping her cloak around her body, Byleth walked out into the grounds, shivering. Thankfully she’d had the good sense to change into something more seasonally appropriate when the weather first began to change, but it was snowing, and the flakes were seeping into the thick wool of her hood and sliding down to the tender skin of her neck. Still, if experience was anything to go by, she wouldn’t be outside for much longer—Dimitri tended to gravitate towards the darker corners of the monastery, more comfortable among the ghosts that haunted his past than the people in his present.

Byleth stepped across the bridge, hurrying toward the cathedral. It was still as imposing as always, stark against the inky black sky. There was something depressing about it standing so tall amidst their dilapidated surroundings that Byleth wasn’t quite ready to contemplate, so she looked to her booted feet instead, focusing on getting inside as soon as possible. 

When she reached the door, she stared at it for a second, stomach churning. It was strange, how nervous she was, but not altogether surprising. This side of the job—the talking, the negotiation, the daily chats with students—had never come easy to her before, and now that everything had happened it was even harder. 

Swallowing hard, she pushed, and the door opened accordingly. Dimitri stood at the opposite end of the room, turned away from her, head hung and shoulders curved inwards. He was _ shaking_, she realized as she took a step closer, hands trembling at his sides as he stared into the abyss of crumbling stone that once made up the wall.

Keeping as quiet as possible, Byleth approached, stopping a few feet behind him. “Dimitri?” she called out. “Are you alright?”

Dimitri stiffened, lifting his head. “Professor…?” he whispered, voice hoarse and cracked with yearning. 

“Yes,” she replied, hesitant. “Apologies for having disturbed you, I…”

He remained still for a second, before his hands came up to wipe at his face and he turned around properly. His eyes were red and puffy, dark circles sloping like bruises beneath them, and his shaggy hair seemed even more unruly than usual. “No apologies necessary,” he said after a beat of silence, clearing his throat and attempting a small smile. “You’ve disturbed nothing more than my thoughts, Professor. And there’s certainly no harm in that.”

Byleth nodded and let her eyes drift to the floor, unsure of how to continue, and an awkward silence fell upon the room. After a few excruciating moments, she looked back up and asked, “Would it help to voice them aloud?”

Dimitri’s smile slipped, and he let out a long, shaky sigh, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. “I couldn’t bring myself to go to dinner tonight,” he confessed. “I felt—ashamed. My behavior has been unforgivable, to say nothing of the pain I’ve inflicted on Felix.” He paused, tipping his head back, before continuing, “And Rodrigue hasn’t been given a proper burial, not yet. The body should be taken to Fhirdiad, where he can rest beside his family.”

“He doesn’t blame you,” Byleth said softly, drawing one step closer. “It’s not your fault, Dimitri. Rodrigue made the choice for all of us—for the _ Kingdom_.”

“And as the leader of the Kingdom, it remains my responsibility regardless of fault,” said Dimitri, avoiding her gaze. “It is I who should bury him, in his family plot. With our situation as it is now, there is no proper burial site here. He shouldn’t rest alone.”

Byleth studied his face silently for a moment. “When my father died,” she began, “I was at a loss. I assumed he would have wanted to be buried beside my mother, and we had no other home to speak of that would function as a burial site, so I chose the grave next to hers. I don’t remember anything about her, but he spoke of her fondly, and I thought it was best. It was strange; I wondered, looking at the pair of tombstones, whether I would be buried there too if I died.” Dimitri’s eyes darted to hers, and he opened his mouth as if to speak before letting it fall shut again. Emboldened by his response, Byleth said, “I realized, then, that it didn’t matter. The dead are the dead, and the living are the living. Rodrigue died with conviction; regardless of where he rests, he is at peace.”

Dimitri looked startled, his eyes wide and lower lip trembling. “Professor,” he started, voice thick with emotion, “I—”

“No one blames you,” Byleth repeated, offering him a rare smile. “He will be buried when we take Fhirdiad. But in order for that to happen, we need to defeat Cornelia, and we cannot do it without you.”

There was a silence that stretched out for what seemed to be a lifetime, before Dimitri huffed out a surprised laugh. “You are so wise,” he said. “How is it that I’ve aged five years and you are still by far the wiser between us?”

Byleth’s smile spread, and she laughed, too, a pleased flush fanning across her face. “Technically, I was never removed from my post,” she said. “Perhaps it’s the professor within me that’s the source of my abounding wisdom.”

“Or perhaps the goddess,” he supplied, a smile of equal proportions budding on his own face. “I think you have an unfair advantage, Professor.”

“_That _hypothesis might require more thought,” she acknowledged. “Though perhaps a teatime discussion or two would suffice.”

Dimitri laughed again, more heartily this time. “Indeed,” he said. “My days are open, Professor.”

They stood there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes as the snow drifted in from the gaping wall. It landed on Dimitri’s head, coating his hair in a downy layer of white and crowning him with slim shards of ice.

After a few more peaceful seconds passed, Dimitri bowed his head and said, voice low, “I am truly indebted to you, Professor. Had you not sought me out, I’m not sure what would have happened. Every day, you prove how invaluable to me your presence is.”

“There are many others here who care about you, Dimitri,” she amended gently, grasping his hand in hers. “Dedue encouraged me to come find you. Everyone—including Felix, though that might come as a surprise—regretted your absence tonight. They offered their aid to you not only as comrades, but also as friends. You don’t have to rely solely on yourself or on me; we are _ all _ on your side, should you choose to accept us.”

“I understand,” Dimitri murmured, fingers curling around her own. “And I am grateful for all of it. Endlessly, undeniably, devotedly grateful.” 

“If you’d like, we can find another way to honor Rodrigue’s memory,” Byleth said, running her thumb over Dimitri’s knuckles. “Before the war, I often found Ashe and Dedue together at the greenhouse. They share a fondness for plants, and for growing things. I was never good at that—as a child, I tread on countless flowers during training with the other mercenaries.”

“I’m afraid I did the same,” Dimitri admitted. “My stepmother used to have to repair the gardens after Ingrid and I sparred all over them in our younger years. Ultimately, I was forbidden from setting foot in them without accompaniment.” He let out a chuckle at the memory, before saying, “Pardon my interruption, Professor. You were saying?”

“No apologies needed,” Byleth said, echoing Dimitri’s earlier words. “I can certainly imagine you and Ingrid wrecking the roses. You must’ve racked up a fortune.” She shook her head, bemused, and went on, “But, yes, as I was saying. Ashe and Dedue often spent time in the greenhouse, and since his return, I’ve encountered them together there many times. Recently, I chanced to ask them what they were doing. Apparently, they lay flowers indiscriminately on the graves, to let the world know people still care.”

“That’s very honorable,” said Dimitri, faintly. “It sounds just like them.”

Byleth nodded, some hair slipping loose from behind her ear. “I’ve taken to joining them, actually,” she said. “Though I’m awful at it, they’ve been very helpful teachers. My father… his grave is no longer empty.” She looked into his eyes, and asked, “Would you like to join us?”

“I would like that very much, if you’ll have me,” Dimitri said earnestly, the hold on her hand tightening.

“I’m sure something can be arranged,” Byleth said, a soft, satisfied weight settling in her chest. “Now, let’s return to the dining hall. It’s freezing, and I’m sure Annette has put aside some dessert for us.”

They strode hand in hand into the winter night, crossing the threshold of the bridge until they reached the entrance to the hall. Byleth took another step, but Dimitri tugged gently at her wrist, slowed to a stop.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, blinking up at him. In the moonlight, his expression was hard to read—his features seemed cut from glass, cheekbones sharp and the line of his nose heavy on his pale face.

“Not at all,” he muttered, brushing a finger over her pulse point. “I just… Professor, I know I’ve said it before, but what you’ve done for me… How could I possibly repay you for any of it? I was so cruel to you—to _ everyone—_and yet you’re leading me back to salvation, your hand in mine…”

“There’s no repayment necessary, Dimitri,” Byleth chided. “Except, perhaps, this one thing.” Reaching out to grab his other hand, she pulled him closer. The wind rushed past them, and snow fell in small flurries upon both of their heads. From far away, Byleth could hear the shifting of creatures in the night, but for once, she wasn’t concerned. “After this—after everything is done—I want to visit the place where your palace once stood and see it firsthand. You’ll grant me that, won’t you?”

Dimitri looked at her wondorously, as if she were glowing in the faint shine of the moon. “I’ll show you everything,” he said, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “If you wanted it, I would give it to you in a second.”

The war raged on—and _ would _rage on for several moons more—but in that moment, neither Byleth nor Dimitri particularly cared, as they stood together in the downpour. Snow fell, fresh and white and soft, blanketing the scorched earth with the tides of a new season.

_ Perhaps we’ll be alright after all, _ thought Byleth, and she smiled_. _  
  


**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bombshellbrune) to scream at me about dimileth bc i LOVE THEM and also a bunch of fe3h ships that i want to write more for in the future!!  
see yall soon;)


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